


The Race

by CryptidBane (Impetus)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Linhardt POV, canon typical death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/CryptidBane
Summary: Caspar and Linhardt meet as children.They fight as children too.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	The Race

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon typical MCD fix that I originally wrote based off of a very vague (so vague I literally shoved it in so it would be unmistakable) theme.  
I hope you enjoy it.

Linhardt blinks, slow, taking in tousled blue hair and a bandaged chin.

His father gently ushers him forward. “This is Caspar, son of General Bergliez. You will be spending time in his company during our stay here at Fort Merceus.” 

They can’t be more than a year apart, but this kid,  _ Caspar,  _ is so small, and he won’t stop tapping his feet against the stone floors. Torchlight paints his tunic orange. Wide eyes bore holes into Linhardt’s skin.

Linhardt feels tired just looking at him.

Their fathers leave them alone with two silent chaperones. Chances of Linhardt escaping fade with their voices. He sighs.

“I’m Linhardt von Hevring,” Linhardt says.

The answering grin nearly splits the boy’s face in half. He’s missing three teeth.

“I’m Caspar von Bergliez. Nice to meet ya!”

***

“Watch this,” Caspar shouts. He grins, then dashes forward, short legs kicking up grass as he leaps over a large moss-covered boulder.

Linhardt continues to read. The sunlight dapples his face through the leaves rustling above him. “Very impressive,” he intones, not at all aware of Caspar’s latest achievement.

Footsteps pound against the earth. A shadow grows at Linhardt’s feet. “Right?” Caspar says with a grin. He leans over to peer at Linhardt’s book. “What’s that? Magic?” He blows a raspberry. “Boring.” And then he’s off. His hands pummel against the trunk of the tree providing Linhardt’s shade.

“Magic is very useful,” Linhardt reminds him.

“Eh, whatever. Spells take too long,” Caspar replies. He swings his arms around to lay another punch that shakes a few bugs loose. “Gotta just get ’em with my fists before they can fry me.”

The force of his jabs breaks the skin on his knuckles. Caspar fidgets as Linhardt mumbles prayers to stitch him back together. 

***

They set out at sunrise. The minor lord hosting them bids them both farewell and good luck.

Twigs snap beneath the hooves of Linhardt’s steed. She’s a gentle creature, sturdy, patient. Unlike the irritated stallion trekking ahead.

Caspar looks as though he’s about to burst at the seams. He occupies himself with his horse’s mane; Linhardt doesn't know much about horses, but if Caspar keeps tugging like that, they’re likely to have a problem. 

“How much farther to the monastery?” Caspar yells. He looks back at Linhardt over his shoulder. The garish haircut he’s given himself makes his head look even bigger than before.

“We just left,” Linhardt says. “If we keep this pace, we’ll get to Garreg Mach by sundown.”

Caspar groans. “That’s ages from now. Let’s go faster.” He nudges his horse into a gallop, a blue blur against green fields.

Linhardt catches up to them an hour later, both horse and rider gulping down water as they rest in the mid-morning sun. 

***

The new professor picks the Blue Lion House, and Linhardt is almost as disappointed as Edelgard is. Which is saying something. 

Annette and Mercedes bloom under her tutelage. Even Sylvain and Felix unearth new talents in magic. Linhardt watches the writhing flames of Sylvain’s newest spell with sharp eyes. 

Linhardt isn’t envious. He doesn’t yearn for things—but he thirsts for knowledge. His gaze sweeps over to their training grounds. 

Edelgard swings her axe with unsettling strength and speed. Dust flies up with each pass of her weapon, her hair flying. 

Ferdinand watches with disdain. He hefts a large sack of grain over each shoulder before lunging around the established perimeter, weights tied to his ankles, grunting with each step. Bernadetta squeaks as one of her arrows pierces through the head of a straw dummy. 

Caspar ducks below a training sword with a wild laugh. He and Petra spar often despite the misgivings of their past. They part and fall together like water. Blade and fists. 

Dorothea left their house last month. 

“Impressive effort from our peers, wouldn’t you say?” 

Linhardt blinks. “Hello, Hubert,” he says. “Are you here to kill me?”

Hubert laughs, low. “No,” he replies. “I am merely here to remind you not to get in Lady Edelgard’s way.” A wind blows over them. Hubert smells like iron and copper. “Your...progress.” He lapses into pointed silence. “Do try to keep up, Linhardt.”

Linhardt ignores him. 

***

“I’m thinking of requesting a class change.”

“What, you don’t like being a mage? You should try being a fighter, like me.”

“No—I mean...I’m thinking of joining the Blue Lions.”

For the first time since they met, Caspar is quiet. 

“You should do it, Linhardt. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Linhardt sucks in a breath. “Would yo—.”

“I think I’ll stay here for now,” Caspar interrupts. He scribbles a smiling face onto his notes. “Edelgard said she’d help me learn how to use an axe. Then Ferdinand offered the exact same thing. Weird huh?”

Linhardt stares past the flickering candlelight and into the darkness of the surrounding library.

“Don’t hurt yourself swinging around an axe that’s bigger than you.”

“Hey!”

***

Dorothea greets Linhardt with a half-smile. She peeks around him. “No Caspar?”

“Just me,” he answers. “Caspar decided to stay with the Black Eagles.”

She shrugs. “Makes sense. I never quite understood why the two of you were so close to begin with.” Dorothea leads him further into the classroom. 

That gives Linhardt pause. “We’ve known each other since we were children.” 

“Right,” she says, smile faltering. It pastes back across her face. “Well, it’s more like you’re a bit of a tortoise, Linnie.” She gestures vaguely. “Caspar is more like a hare, if you get my drift.” 

***

Edelgard starts a war.

Linhardt saddles up his horse. 

“You’re leaving?”

Caspar doesn’t move to stop him.

“Yes.”

***

“Looks like we ended up on opposing sides, Linhardt!”

“Certainly seems that way, I could almost weep over how things turned out.” He tastes blood on his tongue. “Do you realize, Caspar, that this is the first time we’ve ever fought?”

Caspar’s mouth twists into a thin line. “Yeah, I think you’re right. The first and probably the last.” 

***

The tortoise wins, and he weeps.


End file.
